Hope for Now
by luminescentglow
Summary: My breathing is rapid, I'm slowly losing consciousness. I think of how easy it would be to just give in, to fall asleep and never wake up. It's then I hear it, the voice of my father. And I can't help but hope for now. Post Revolution, One-shot


**A/N: I was recently introduced to City and Colour. The italics are lyrics to his song Hope for Now. This song spoke to me and I saw Katniss in every word of it. In fact, many of his songs could easily represent characters and situations from the Hunger Games. I hope you enjoy : ) P.s. I'm working on another chapter for my story Starting Over, but I don't know when I'll be able to update. University has stolen my time. **

I make my way down familiar paths. The forest is alive and teeming with life. I am empty, just a shell of what used to be. It's as if I'm in a trance. I walk with no particular destination in mind. But I need to keep moving to remind myself that I am alive. The world outside is dark, mirroring my inner torment. The blackness is creeping in and distorting my vision. Still I wander.

_This highway's dark and empty  
>Just miles and miles of endless road<em>

There are terrors hidden in the shadows. Each one haunts my every step. I'm left alone with the evil and it enshrouds me until I am too weak to stand. I fall to my knees. All the memories begin to take a hold. My mind is overwhelmed; I hear their screams of hatred and see their wild eyes imploring me to take responsibility for my actions. I feel nauseated and fall over. I try to disappear, hide, rid myself of the apparitions by tucking into myself, becoming as small as possible. But nothing works.

_I've got a sickness pounding in my head  
>I'm at the mercy of the ghost<em>

I don't know how to escape. My instincts are what keep me living from day to day. But I'm not sure they're enough anymore. Survival does not seem as important as it once was. I just want to be free. I want the ghouls of the night to vanish. I want the pain to halt for all time. But I don't know where to begin. I don't know if healing is possible. I'm not sure I will ever recover.

_What will it take to live as if I would not another day  
>To live without despair, and to be without disdain?<em>

The people of Panem, for now, are safe and sound but I myself do not feel free from harm. The world has been saved for them, but not for me. I am exposed, vulnerable, damaged. The girl on fire could not be extinguished in time. She has been burned beyond recognition. A revolution was fought and won, but the Mockingjay was forever scarred. She has become a fragile bird and lost everything in her life which used to shine. It hurts to think I couldn't save them all. My song didn't bring Rue back from the dead. My wishes will never bring my father or Prim back either. I am a failure. It eats away at me every day.

_How can I instill such hope, but be left with none of my own?  
>What if I could sing just one song and it might save somebody's life?<em>

I'm still huddled on the earth floor. My sobs have turned to soundless shudders. I am alone. In all this darkness I cannot find my boy with the bread. There are no dandelions in this endless winter. I wanted so badly to let him see my scars. I longed for him to heal my heart. But he was just as broken as I was. Peeta was my last hope.

_I sought after, after reasons to stay  
>I was lost, I was lost<em>

The trees close in around me. It's suddenly suffocating in these woods. The air is thick with anticipation. The minutes, or maybe hours, tick on and the world soon welcomes an approaching storm. There's a rumble of thunder here and there. Before long, lightning strikes. The ground shakes and the trees quiver. Torrential downpour ensues. My heart is pounding, beating out of my chest. I think that maybe this is it. The time has finally come to give in and die. I'm thinking about my lifeless body being discovered, curled up with dirt still clenched between my fingers, the only thing within my grasp. And then, I remember that no one knows I'm here. More importantly, no one cares that I am here. I will never be found.

_Then the sky turned black, and the rains poured down  
>I was waiting, waiting to be found<em>

My breathing is rapid, I'm slowly losing consciousness. I think of how easy it would be to just give in, to fall asleep and never wake up. And it's then I hear it, the voice of my father. At first it's a whisper and can hardly be heard over the turbulent winds and rain. But the storm is slowing. His voice grows louder. He is singing. His voice is carried to me by the gusts of the dying storm. He is singing. The melodious sound dances around me, and softly tumbles into my ears. He is singing. And he is singing for me. I sit up abruptly and am startled by the stillness of the forest. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. I'm about to lie down again and will the madness to return so I can accept my death when I hear the music once more. Only this time, the singing is coming from a Mockingjay. I spot him precariously perched on a branch, and his gaze is so intent and his voice so captivating that I cannot turn away or cover my ears. I listen. The musical theme is stunningly divine. And interwoven within the beautiful melody I hear the words of all those who died.

_How can I instill such hope, but be left with none of my own?  
>What if I could sing just one song and it might save somebody's life?<em>

It hits me hard. Everyone who lost their lives would want me to live mine to the fullest. It is so simple, yet profound and utterly powerful. I know just what each and every one of them would say if they were here with me right now. My father would tell me that I could weather any storm, endure. Rue would tell me that the work was over, enjoy. Finnick would offer me a sugar cube, laugh. Prim would tell me that those who are still alive still need me, will always need me, love. The song's message is clear; I must live for them. And so I join in. My first few notes are tentative but I am surprised to find that the rest of the notes come easily and flow effortlessly from my mouth.

_Then I would sing all that I could sing  
>Cause that is when, when I feel that I'm not just counting time<em>

For the first time in ages, I feel joy. The smile on my face is palpable, tangible. Immediately the darkness is swept away and all around the light is brilliant, shining and real. My heart swells up and I can feel the tears sliding down my cheek. But these are tears of joy. I will endure; I will enjoy; I will laugh; and most importantly I will love. My feet take the lead. I am racing back towards District 12. I am heading home. I'm singing as I run. I'm out of breath when I reach my house, but I don't care, I keep going until I'm at his door. I'm pounding on his door. As soon as it opens, I'm through it and in his arms. He's shocked at first, but then it's all laughter and tears. I'm going to be alright. Peeta's going to be alright. We're going to be alright.

_Oh when I sing all that I can sing  
>Maybe just for a moment things would seem all right<em>

Later that day, when we're curled up together on his couch, I begin to sing. And when I sing, I think that maybe I haven't lost _everything_. I think that maybe I will learn to make _new_ memories. I think that maybe just maybe things will be alright. That is my hope for now. And I cling to it with every fiber of my being.

_Oh when I sing, oh when I sing  
>Oh when I sing, oh when I sing<em>


End file.
